


mirror mirror show me truth

by serenlyall



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: ANYWAY here have a drabble collection i guess, Gen, i think that's what this is going to be, idk - Freeform, idk man, welcome back to hell seren :')
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24087112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenlyall/pseuds/serenlyall
Summary: A collection of Fairy Tail oneshots/drabbles.Chapter 1: Erza Scarlet comes to Fairy Tail.
Relationships: Erza Scarlet & Makarov Dreyar





	mirror mirror show me truth

**Author's Note:**

> Well well well. Look who's writing Fairy Tail again for the first time in like 6+ years. I never wrote much FT (I think this is the first thing I'm posting on AO3, even), and what I did write was pretty shitty. BUT. I'm here again. :') We'll see how much I actually write of this series, but uh oh well I guess. It'll probably be updated sporadically at best, rarely at worst - but go ahead and hit the follow, because I will be returning to this every so often. That much, at least, I can promise.

“What makes you think you are magic enough to join a wizarding guild?”

Erza Scarlet, 12 and scarred and scared, stared at the wizened old man standing in front of her, and frowned.

She stood in the Fairy Tail guild hall, the vaulted beams of the ceiling arched overhead, a hundred sunbeams streaming in through the huge wall of windows behind her. The tables that filled the northern half of the hall were filled with silent spectators, all watching her, all wary. They had questions in their eyes, and discomfort on their lips, and uncertainty in their shoulders.

Erza could see it as well as feel it—could see it as plainly as the scars on her arms and back, could feel it as thick as the darkness behind the eye missing from her skull. Their distrust was rampant; their fear was thick enough to taste.

Lifting her chin high, Erza stared down at the man standing before her, and said, “Rob said you’d accept anyone.”

A low murmur buzzed through the hall at her words. Erza caught only a snatch or two of the conversations that rushed from one end of the tables to the other, but she heard the name _Rob_ over and over and over.

She smiled, a bitter cant of her lips that was void of all mirth. “Rob is dead,” she announced to the whispers and the judgment, proud and arrogant and more confident than she felt. The room fell deadly silent. “He died to save me—to give me a chance to find you all, to find a family. He said you would take me in, if I could find you. He said you would take care of me.” She turned an arched eyebrow down on the wizened old man standing in front of her with arms crossed. “Did he lie?”

“Show us your magic,” the old man commanded, though there was something peculiar in his voice.

Erza closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She extended her right hand, palm forward and fingers splayed, and cast her mind deep within her—into the galaxy of stars that was the place she had found that day at the foot of the Tower of Heaven when Rob had died, when she had finally unshackled herself, when she had at last delved into her own innate power.

The galaxy of stars burst around her in a thousand fractals of color. She was a thousand prisms, she was a hundred facets. She was eternity, and she was infinitely small. She was death. She was life. She was the harbinger, and she was the prophet. She was everything. She was nothing. She was the world. She was the galaxy.

She was the universe.

Erza gasped—and there, hanging amid the stars, was one of the swords she had snatched at the foot of the Tower of Heaven. It was notched and rusted, the hilt badly constructed and awkwardly fastened to the blade, the tip poorly sharpened. Yet it was there, just where she had left it.

She grasped it—and as her spectral fingers closed around the hilt, she felt the sword fall into her open palm. Her fingers snapped closed, and she opened her eyes—to see a room full of shocked and openly startled faces.

Erza flourished the blade, then flipped it around so that she was offering the hilt to the wizened old man. He took it, a question in the smile on his lips, and as he examined it his eyebrows crawled up his forehead.

“So,” he said at last, though he did not offer the blade back to Erza, “you have the ability to manifest weaponry. Can you do anything else?”

“No,” Erza lied.

“I see,” said the man, and somehow Erza guessed he did. He smiled then, though, unexpected and warm. “Well,” he said, “this is definitely a peculiar magic.” His eyes met Erza’s, and her stomach jolted. She had not realized until then that he had yet to stare her directly in the eye—and now that he had, she found she could not look away.

“Welcome to Fairy Tail, child.”

Erza bowed, released from the power of his gaze, relief pouring through her. At least in this much, Rob had been right. They had accepted her—let her in, at least. Whether they would ever truly accept her was yet to be seen.

But for now—for now, this was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? Comment and let me know! Oh, and if you have any prompts for me, hit the comment box and me up! (Did I just use a zeugma? Why yes, yes I did.) I hope to hear from you!


End file.
